


Destiny Is the Rising Sun

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billy Hargrove Is an Asshole, Biting, Boys Kissing, Episode: s02e02 Trick or Treat Freak, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, POV Billy Hargrove, Party, Season/Series 02, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 02:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Billy's fine with being a rebound fuck.(Or, Steve and Nancy break up at the party.)The problem here is that Steve's lips are warm and wet, and his mouth is hot, and Billy has trouble not biting down, because when someone this pretty lets you put your hands all over them you gotta mess them up a little.





	Destiny Is the Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/gifts).

> One half of this was written during work on Friday and the other half at home with The Runaways's "Cherry Bomb" playing on repeat in the background for hours. This should tell you everything you need to know about what sort of story this is. I'm happier with it now, though, I guess. *shrug*
> 
> Inspired by Sara's excellent Tumblr tags. Title from Bad Company, for whatever reason.
> 
> (Note: Billy/Steve should be canonically 17/18 here. From what I could find, that would be legal in the state of Indiana, and I'm unwilling to tag this for Underage. IDK.)

Yeah, Billy needs to piss. The weed is wearing off and the keg was definitely watered down Midwestern shit, because he feels entirely too awake, and, like, he _really_ needs to _fucking piss_. Only Pretty Boy and Bossy Bitch made it inside the only available bathroom before he could reach it, and now he's stuck leaning against the doorjamb right outside, listening in on their inane lovers' spat for what feels like for fucking ever as if he's got nothing better to do.

It's not going well for Pretty Boy, that's for sure. _King_ Steve Harrington. What a fucking joke. Way too pretty by half. Pretty girlfriend, too, or soon to be ex if either of them has the _cojones_ to end it tonight.

He's seen the type back at his old school—daddy's girl and the school jock, missionary with the lights off written all over the both of them, unless he's secretly nutting to his buddies' pecks in his head and she's got dyke in her future away at college. But otherwise they're just as likely as not to get hitched by twenty-five, sexless by thirty, and fooling around with the help by forty.

Right as Billy's about to go find himself a potted plant to desecrate, King Steve barges out of the bathroom without sparing him a glance, face red and shoulders tight. Princess isn't following him out, so it takes Billy about five seconds to shrug and walk off as well. Prepares to follow Harrington down into the party. He figures he can find his way out onto the porch where there's barely anyone hanging out and take a piss in peace.

Only Harrington seems to be loitering down the corridor, aimless and looking the worse for wear. He snatches a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey forgotten in a dark corner and—stares at it. Back to Billy and breathing deeply, he's basically being boring as fuck and a general sad ball-sack after getting sort of dumped by his girlfriend. Predictable. They'll probably make up by homeroom tomorrow. He's going to buy her roses, she'll give him mediocre head, and Disney bluebirds will be chirping in the background. Billy wants to gag a little.

Instead of heading down regardless, he decides to stick around and have some—_fun_. Gets all up in Harrington's space soon enough, and he must hear Billy walking towards him in the empty corridor, because he turns around and frowns and kind of stands there some more like a moron holding his found whiskey. Billy doesn't touch; just hovers. He's good at getting others to wish he would touch them, let them touch him. It's a neat trick. He's good at making people equally uncomfortable, too, but he'd rather go for something sweeter if given the chance.

Once Harrington recognises him, his eyes focus on Billy's immediately, clear and sharp. Sober then. Good.

"Lose something?" he mutters. But he glances at the closed bathroom door and back at Billy. Chews on his own tongue.

Cocking his head, Billy mutters, "Pity." His lips twitch. They both know what he's referring to. What they're both talking about and _who_ they're talking about here.

Pretty Boy blinks. "Yeah, well—"

"You have the balls to break up with her yet?" he cuts in. Needs to get his point across. Only way to get what he wants is to rip off the band-aid while the night's still young.

Predictably, King Steve is far from impressed.

"Dude. What the fuck." He's blinking too fast, Billy notices, but he's not swaying or anything. If there's one thing which can sober a person right up, he figures getting shit on at a party is definitely one. Won't hold for long if there's free booze he could be going for and ending the night uncomfortably passed out next to somebody else's puke in self-pity. Billy has a better idea.

Looking him up and down, he says, "Fuck is right," and Stevie's eyes widen in the most adorably dense display of shock Billy's ever seen. He's known the guy for all of thirty seconds, but he figures there's loads more where that came from, and maybe a dirty side to him to boot.

As if to prove just that, he watches as he licks his lips absently and breathes through his mouth, probably just to cope with being hit on by Billy of all people, but the tip of his pink little tongue peeks out all the same. It seems that Billy has to nudge him along right after, so he pointedly stares at Harrington's mouth for several long moments. Finally adds, "I don't do sloppy seconds, though," which is a lie, but he's not here for the drama and he'd rather not have Wheeler try to rip his balls off at school the next day.

He walks off while Harrington swallows heavily.

It takes about ten minutes of mingling where the party's at its loudest for Billy to hear from three different sources about how Steve Harrington very publicly broke up with Nancy Wheeler by the empty plastic cup table. Is breaking up with her right at that very moment. In all honesty, Billy never thought he had it in him. The more you know.

Harrington finds him in less than five minutes, or more like three if they're being honest, and crowds him by a coffee table pushed in a dark corner of the living room where there aren't as many people loitering about, as secluded as it gets while surrounded by their entire school. Billy's feeling smug about it, but also kind of horny, an itch swelling to the surface he'd like to get scratched. He probably won't get his dick sucked this time around, but a sloppy handy could be in his future if he plays his cards right.

With a quick glance to the side, Harrington mutters, "You should really wash your hands." Billy blinks. Narrows his eyes and tries to parse what King Steve's even on about. "Hygiene is important," he adds, his eyes wide, even bigger than usual, eyebrows twitching wildly. If they were in school, somebody would be calling the nurse.

It clicks, though, but only because Billy's got a one-track mind. But Harrington's definitely a freak and a half.

"After you." He feels like a wolf. His prey is asking to be eaten. He's looking forward to it. Doesn't even hurry to follow.

No one bothers them on their way up the stairs, despite Billy quickly bridging the distance. He's been told Harrington's big on smoking up, and Billy hasn't been shy about showing Tommy and company how much he's also a fan of the green. Parties tend to mellow people out. They're not being suspicious, unless someone were to follow them and watch them go inside the same bathroom instead of heading outside with the rest of the burnouts. Billy could give a shit when the same bathroom as before is now mercifully empty.

He lets Harrington go inside first and sees him turn around in the middle of the room, kind of wary as he watches Billy join him, door quickly closed against the rest of the party. Billy's eyes don't leave Harrington's until after he's got them locked inside. Only then does he crowd him against the counter next to the sink. The lights are too bright in here, but everyone downstairs seems to have forgotten this bathroom even exists, which serves Billy just fine. He palms Harrington's hip bone, knocking his thigh a little too roughly into the edge of the counter. It's only half on accident, but he shows his teeth as if it was all on purpose.

"You're an asshole. Like, you know that, right?" He shoves at Billy's shoulders as if he's swatting at a fly. His fingers sink into his hair at the first press of Billy's teeth to his neck. Crunch of hairspray. Short nails scritching at his scalp. Billy bites him on principle, and it shouldn't be this hot already.

Pulling back, he watches for any signs that Harrington's about to make a fuss. There are none. He pushes in and mouths at his bottom lip. Non-committal. Harrington makes a breathless little noise of annoyance which has the potential of turning into protest with the way his back stiffens, but he relaxes beneath Billy's hands easily after the first few tense moments, and Billy feels free to tilt his head for better access, Harrington's mouth opening wider straight away, and to lick deeper inside with broad strokes of his tongue.

The room feels too warm. Harrington seems all in, and it's easily some of the best action Billy's gotten since leaving Cali. All of a sudden, he's flushed from just a few kisses, skin tingling with every lick of Harrington's tongue along his teeth, throat contracting and heart beating wildly.

Harrington's the one to pull back, pull away. Says all in a rush, "Too fast." It is. Billy doesn't care.

"Do you wanna slow down?" he offers, expecting Harrington to pussy out when given the out.

To his surprise, Harrington actually thinks it over, eyes glazed and lips a puffy pink, thinks about it all of ten seconds, before shaking his head and staring into Billy's eyes for a long moment, and then diving back in.

They scramble at each other's clothing, and then at their own, and way too quickly they're both only in their jeans, and then Billy's palm is cupping him in a way which must be too much not to moan about, too loud within the walls of the empty bathroom even stifled in the press of their mouths. Billy groans; he can't help it. Wants to throw Harrington down onto the floor. Settles for closing his hands around his thighs and hoisting him onto the counter before reaching for the fly on his jeans with single-minded determination, head foggy with how much he wants to get in there. He pushes into the space between Harrington's legs and Harrington gasps into his mouth. He moves his palm from his half-open fly only to grip at the back of his neck and the small of his back with greedy fingers.

The problem here is that Steve's lips are warm and wet, and his mouth is hot, and Billy has trouble not biting down, because when someone this pretty lets you put your hands all over them you gotta mess them up a little. He'd like nothing more than to dump his come inside him and send him back to his little girlfriend dripping with it, even if everyone knows how they're over now, even if he broke it off and he's here with Billy instead, who's tempted to do loads more besides. When it's all there for the taking, it's a hardship to deny himself. Why bother? He's Billy Hargrove, soon to be king of this shithole, and this here is the prettiest boy he's seen in all of Indiana—_Steve_.

And maybe he should go all in, put his money where his mouth is, because it's not as if there's going to be much to say afterwards, not like they're going to be seeing much more of each other once the night's over. Or they might, after all, brush past each other in the corridors at school, and maybe they could throw some hoops even. But Billy's tongue is in Steve's mouth still and Steve's is in his, and it's only going to be easy for as long as it takes them to get off _right now_.

He can't imagine he'll get a chance at more of this. No next time. Stevie doesn't seem like the sort of boy who needs more than the one time to wrap his head around this whole rebound thing.

In spite of that, Billy does pull back where they're close enough to breathe the same air. "Not gonna let you fuck me tonight, pretty boy," he mutters into Steve's mouth, who moans and hiccups and blushes hot enough Billy feels it radiating off him. He stares Billy down, confused and not hiding it, and Billy rolls his eyes before palming his way across his back to his waist and down to the button and zipper of his jeans with more than a little intent, job left half-finished from before.

It's sloppy. Steve's cock is hot and hard and fat in Billy's dry palm. He spits on it from a few inches away from Steve's face, big globs of it falling onto the back of Billy's hand, which he then smears over his dick, his grip tightening and setting a rhythm. He expects some disgust at the mess, but Steve's breath catches and his dick jerks pre-come instead. Gets it real fucking wet, real fucking fast, Billy's palm sliding smoothly, wet little noises filling up the room, and Billy's now aching in his jeans.

Not for long, though. Steve follows through. Has him out of his jeans and underwear within moments, and making out with him all the while. Billy's leaking, but it's rough without any slick. They're both cut, Steve should know this, and maybe his brain catches up with how Billy's hand is dripping, pressure just right if Billy says so himself, while Steve's barely making any headway, before his palm leaves Billy's cock to quickly return wet and eager from a few messy swipes of his tongue.

There's only good pressure after that. Friction Billy can only dream about. Steve's wrist twitches and swirls on the upstroke, and it warms him up from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. He fucks his way deeper into Steve's mouth then, tries to get as close as he can while it still lasts.

It doesn't last long. They're both fired up, Billy more so just from thinking about it, just from thinking about how Steve's into it, too.

When he comes, he bites down a little harder than he's done the entire time, breaking skin only enough to sting. He licks his way across the nip and doesn't taste copper. Steve doesn't seem to mind. He huffs and groans and fills Billy's palm, raw egg white and milky. His breathing doesn't calm for minutes afterwards, but Billy's willing to wait him out.

Finally, he says, "I can skip homeroom." Which doesn't make sense in light of _any_ conservation Billy's had tonight, unless he's been hitting the juice a little too hard.

It must read plainly on his face, especially standing this closely, because Steve explains, "My parents are away. If you wanna..." and he trails off as if Billy's about to fill in the gaps. And maybe he is. If he's hearing this right, maybe there's something to fill after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [rhubarbdreams @ tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/) if you want to share in my obsessions.


End file.
